Comatose
by The Bitch Who Died
Summary: she falls down the rabbit hole — he wonders if he should catch her. /or/ this — whatever "this" is — is toxic. but it's so pretty . . . \One-shot/ Happy 50th Thundermans fic [thundercest] [max/phoebe] R


_comatose_

_she falls down the rabbit hole — he wonders if he should catch her._

* * *

The first fall, the first slip on ice, is when they're little. Buds of innocence, cherry colored cheeks, curious doe eyes. It's his fault. He's always been bolder. Daring, dashing — she starts off thinking of her big brother as a knight with battered armor and a sickeningly greenish purple mound at his eye.

_but aren't we all deluded in childhood?_

It's just a little peck. Toxic coated by a shiny, fresh layer of innocence. Quick. 1, 2, 3. It's a _wedding_ though, she's just declared him King and herself Queen.

_if only she realized the innuendos and complications of the itsy bitty crush._

He tells her, a bright, _naïve_ smile on his lips, that she's beautiful. Her cheeks flush.

_it's the first step towards the rabbit hole but she can't help it; it's just _sooooo_ mesmerizing._

* * *

It's a game — isn't everything? They come up with it when they're 9. She slips her hand into his and he paves whatever path he wishes.

_they ignore the fact that this only has one ending — and it isn't happy._

He runs and runs and runs while she tries not to collapse. She'll do _anything_ to keep up with her brother. Even if it kills her. And maybe it will if he keeps running this fast.

_oh well, she likes the way he seems to shine._

* * *

The door slams shut and she hears the lock click. Her fist wraps on the door quickly, what did she do wrong? What _can_ she do wrong? She's their little _darling_ and he can't freaking stand that.

_but she just wants her brother back . . ._

She sits outside his door all night. When he wakes up in the morning, he trips over her. And God, oh, God, how _toxic_ it all is — especially when he wraps his arms around her and cradles her.

_she's read the book, wonderland sounds oh so amazing._

* * *

They hit 12 together, his eyes sink and dim while hers are forced to grow ever brighter under their watchful gaze. He grows 2 inches. She grows none.

_she dips an experimental foot in the rabbit hole and shrinks an inch._

For all it's worth, his fingertips brush hers and static _(tainted, gorgeous static) _rushes through her. It's a moment — 4 seconds to be exact — but it's there and it's sickeningly real. Before he castrates the memory of reaching out, condemning it with how hellishly perfect they all think_ (read: _know —_ it's true after all__)_ she is. She may not see it, but this is a rat race of favoritism and suddenly, she's the fastest twin.

_and she smiles that pretty, plastic smile with all those painted over cracks while she braces herself for the fallout._

* * *

This masquerade is wearing him out. Run, run, as fast as you fucking can, catch up or she wins again. He can't stand that she leads the game now. One foot in front of the other, no matter how tired you are or how heavy your eyelids get. If she can play the role of Perfect, he can play the role of Bad.

_it's not like he doesn't know that she's balanced on the edge._

Her lips move too quickly and she has all the right answers but all the _wrong_ questions. He tries to keep up but all he can do not to scream is to lash out. So he bites back each question _(he doesn't know that he has the right ones)_ and scowls at her straight A's.

_the rabbit hole has her wrapped around its finger and him ready to shove her if he has to._

But she still smiles back and tries not to feel how _disgusting_ these potent emotions are. Ignore it and it will go away. Even if you have to play Perfect and smile while the feelings close in and his smirks grow infectious.

_maybe if she just jumped it would leave her alone._

* * *

With a quick hug she lies and he wonders if she's dying inside. He's done nothing but push and shove to try and figure out if his heart is racing and if those are ugly little butterflies flapping around. He's still short an answer; she has them all and he has the questions — if only he'd ask.

_she's almost sucked into that big damn rabbit hole by now._

This is becoming a huge goddamn complication. Who is he kidding? It always has been. And he can tell the walls are closing in and _one_ of them is becoming a claustrophobic wreck.

_the other is ready to just fucking jump already._

His arms return to her and he tries to count the stars that night. Never mind _whatever the hell _this is and could become. He needs right now because back then has been shoved off the shelf in fear. His eyes dart down for just a second and he wonders if she can feel _this._

_whether this is falling into nothing or soaring into heaven._

* * *

Her fall is set in motion and he's still torn between calculating her projection and watching her kill herself. 16 years later and he's still not clued in on the details of their vows from innocence.

_he doesn't know if she's screaming or laughing or even feeling right now._

This is all so complicated and he just wants to go back to when they sipped on juice boxes and made pinky promises to get married one day _(because they were blind to society and morality's thin veil)_. She thinks she wants to be 10 again and not sure who the hell is leading their game but knowing that he'll catch her.

_down the rabbit hole, sweetie. will he catch you or is he afraid? oh, what do you care, you're numb anyways._

* * *

_is your heart even beating right now?_

* * *

Hold back that follow or favorite,

And trade it for a review,

It'll serve as feedback & motivation for my writing tricks,

And otherwise, I might just slap you.

- Queen Alison the Obstinate

P.S. Seriously, if you haven't voted on what I should change my pen name to, vote.


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